


Curses and Cocoa

by MickyRC



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, I love Warlock more every time I write him, Valentines adjacent, i dunno what to tell you it's just fluff, seriously i got nothing else
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-02-23 09:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23009026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MickyRC/pseuds/MickyRC
Summary: A loud crash echoed in from the kitchen.  “Warlock…” Crowley sighed, heading for the door, but the kid’s voice stopped him where he was.“It’s not on the floor!” he called hurriedly.  “It’s fine!  Nothing’s on the floor!”  Another clatter.  “Er… nothing important.”Crowley wants to surprise Aziraphale with homemade chocolates, and of course he needs an assistant to help him with them, even if that assistant is making a bit of a mess.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Comments: 14
Kudos: 151
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations, Ixnael’s SFW corner, Lost And Found Family





	Curses and Cocoa

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [take two, action](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22729033) by [genesius](https://archiveofourown.org/users/genesius/pseuds/genesius). 



> Sooooo the gomens party house server ran a dtiys on the fic linked above, and I saw the word "Dowling" and immediately ran off to write happy Warlock fluff. Thank you Stu for betaing and making sure I make sense!

“Oh,  _ fuck.” _

There was a loud gasp from the kitchen.  _ “Na_nny!” 

Ah, heaven. The kid might not be the anti-Christ, but hell if he didn’t pick up on curses like it was his God given duty.

“Do you need something?” Crowley called, eyes still scanning the shelves. Who had six kinds of sugar in their pantry? When would you ever need that much sugar? Actually, why were there six different kinds of sugar in existence at all? It was just excessive.

A pale face with a shock of dark hair popped around the doorway. “You said a bad wooooooord,” Warlock singsonged at him, a look of unrestrained glee plastered across his face.

Crowley tipped his head to give him a look over his sunglasses. “And I  _ also _ said if you stopped stirring that chocolate on the stove there would be no licking the spoon.”

Warlock scrambled away as fast as he had appeared. Crowley turned back to his sugar options.

This had seemed like a great plan. It had seemed like such a brilliant joke, such a fun little surprise to bring home to Aziraphale. Homemade chocolates, with all kinds of fancy fillings and shapes and probably subtexts Crowley was missing entirely. Like that time with the flowers. How was  _ he _ supposed to know tulips were a declaration of love? They were just tulips! They were pretty! They smelled nice!

Not that he had much to complain about regarding the tulip incident. He knew he’d have been irredeemably flustered hearing Aziraphale confess he loved Crowley back even if he  _ had _ known what the heaven was going on.

A loud crash echoed in from the kitchen. “Warlock…” Crowley sighed, heading for the door, but the kid’s voice stopped him where he was.

“It’s not on the floor!” he called hurriedly. “It’s fine! Nothing’s on the floor!” Another clatter. “Er… nothing important.”

Crowley hung on the doorframe just inside the pantry. “Am I going to come out there and find chocolate all over everything?”

“...maybe?”

With another long suffering sigh of a caliber only a prince of Hell or someone who worked with children could achieve, Crowley swung himself into the kitchen.

In Warlock’s defence, the floor did seem to be no worse than the rest of the room.

Other than that, though, the contents of all three bulk boxes of cocoa powder had decided they would much rather get to see the whole of the kitchen instead of just the inside of one measly mixing bowl. The stove, the cabinets, the island counter; all of it was covered in a fine layer of dark brown dust. Warlock stood on a footstool near the stove, wooden spoon in hand as he kept calmly stirring the pot of melted chocolate even as cocoa powder fell out of his ponytail with every movement. “The boxes exploded.”

Crowley leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms. “Did they now?”

“Just a bit, yeah.”

He could feel a laugh building in his chest, and glued his face into a patented Nanny Ashtoreth frown. “And how did this explosion happen?” Warlock avoided his eyes, peering into the simmering pot and stirring more vigorously. “Warlock,” Crowley warned.

The boy shrugged, sending a cloud of fragrant dust into the air. The Dowlings wouldn’t be needing scented candles anywhere in the house any time soon. “I, uh. Might’ve. Hit one? Not on purpose!” He quickly turned back to Crowley. “I didn’t mean to! It just… I…”

Crowley let him suffer for a moment (had to make sure there were some consequences, right?) before he opened an arm and beckoned him over. Warlock carefully put his chocolate covered spoon down, hopped off the stool, then trudged over to him with a bit more drama than was strictly necessary. Crowley had rarely been so proud. As soon as he was in range, Crowley scooped him into a hug, not at all deterred by Warlock’s arms hanging limply by his sides. The kid was pressing his face into his jacket in the way he did when he didn’t want to admit he was happy for a hug, but was nonetheless. “You’re gonna get cocoa powder in your clothes,” Warlock muttered into Crowley’s shirt.

“Am I?” Crowley wondered aloud, an impish grin across his face. “What cocoa powder?”

Warlock stepped back, and sure enough, there wasn’t a speck of chocolate on Crowley’s shirt, even where he’d shoved his cocoa covered nose into the fabric. He was a pristine island in a sea of chocolate dust. Warlock turned his face up to give Crowley a patented Warlock Dowling eye roll. “I hate it when you do that.”

Crowley’s grin never faltered. “Do what?”

Another eyeroll. “You  _ know.” _

“Hmm. Well, anyway, I don’t believe that chocolate’s going to stir itself—”

“You told me to come over here!”

“—and since this is at least the second time you’ve abandoned your post—”

“Crowley!”

“—not even to mention whatever happened to make the cocoa powder explode—”

_ “Nannyyyyyy!” _ But Warlock was laughing now, and as much as he waved his arms and squirmed away, he let Crowley yank him back in and ruffle his hair, and barely whined at all when he got a kiss to the top of his head. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m your nanny, and I love you,” Crowley said matter-of-factly.

“You’re  _ not, _ though,” Warlock protested, even as he leaned back against Crowley’s chest. “Not anymore.”

Crowley pressed another kiss to his hair. “I’ll always be your nanny,” he murmured. Then he took too deep a breath and choked on the chocolate powder he had loosed from Warlock’s hair. “Satan, kid, you need a bath.”

Warlock hurriedly pushed out of his arms and made a beeline for the stove. “Chocolate first, bath later.”

“Na-ah-ah-ah-ah,” Crowley chided, snagging the wooden spoon away before Warlock could quite get to it. “You neglected this job, so now you get another.”

The kid’s eyes lit up. “Really? What?”

Crowley poked at the melted chocolate with the spoon and adjusted the temperature. “First, I need you to get something.”

“Uh-huh.”

“So, you’re gonna go down the hall by the pantry.”

“Mhm.”

“Third door on the left.”

“Yeah?”

“Up along the right hand wall, there’s a good dust pan and broom set—”

_ “Naaaaannyyyyyy!” _

Crowley was, as ever, grateful for the help his sunglasses gave in hiding a smirk. “Warlock, you know how I feel about messes.”

Warlock, the clever little menace, pulled himself onto the counter so he could see the half-grin on Crowley’s face. “So just clean it up! Do your magic snappy thing.”

“No no no no,” Crowley said, swinging the spoon to drip threateningly in Warlock’s direction. “You made the mess, you clean it up.”

Warlock’s head tipped back and thunked against the cabinets. “But that’ll take  _ ages. _ ” Crowley opened his mouth to comment further, but Warlock flung a hand up to stop him. “And we’re running out of time for the chocolates! You said you wanted them done by three so you can bring them to Brother Aziraphale!”

“We’re fine, we’re not running out of—” He snuck a look at his watch. “Oh, shit. You’re right.”

Warlock gasped. “That’s a—”

Crowley hurriedly swung the spoon back around, nearly whacking Warlock across the nose with it. “Hush,” he ordered.

But Warlock was beaming, grinning like an imp as he started to singsong. “You said a bad wooooord!”

“Aaaaargh,” Crowley groaned, throwing his hands in the air and coming very close to smacking himself in the face this time. “Fine, fine, don’t tell your parents and I’ll help you clean it up, happy?”

The raised eyebrow and crossed arms turned in his direction made it very clear the answer was no. Crowley growled and tossed the spoon into the pot. “Right. Don’t tell Aziraphale and I’ll miracle it.”

“Yisss,” Warlock crowed and leaped off the counter.

“You still need a bath when we’re done!” Crowley called as Warlock ran victorious circles around the room.

“When we’re done!” Warlock skidded to a stop next to him, leaning over the pot on the stove again. “We gotta make the chocolates first!”

“Uh huh,” Crowley drawled, shaking chocolate sauce off the spoon. “And  _ you...” _ he tapped Warlock on the nose with it, making him flail backwards. “Are getting none of it.”

_ “What?!?” _

Crowley shook his head sadly. “Not a lick. You left your post, I can’t go around rewarding that kind of negligence.”

Warlock stared at him. He probably meant to look unimpressed, but with the smear of chocolate sauce on his nose Crowley just thought he was adorable. “I don’t know what that word means.”

“Means you weren’t paying attention to your job.”

“That’s not fair, I didn’t—”

“You also mysteriously exploded cocoa powder all over the kitchen.”

Warlock grumbled, but made no effort to deny it. But he looked so sad staring down at his feet that Crowley relented. “Tell you what,” he started, but held up a hand when Warlock looked up hopefully. “You’re not getting any of these. If we manage to pull this off and make anything up to standard it goes straight to Aziraphale, got that? Buuuuut…” He drew it out, enjoying the way Warlock’s eyes widened and how he fidgeted on his toes the same way he had ever since he learned to talk. “If you help me get this done, I’ll bring you a slice of cake from dinner.”

He wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Warlock’s eyes went even rounder for a moment before they dropped into suspicion. “Vanilla with—”

“—with chocolate icing, yes. Don’t think I don’t know what you like, have  _ some _ faith in me here.”

He turned back to the stove, but stopped short when there was suddenly a pair of cocoa dusted arms thrown tight around his waist. Crowley’s chest lit up with a joy that carried all the way up to his smile. Ruffling Warlock’s hair and creating another cloud of chocolate, he was already thinking about how best to rescue the slightly charred sauce when he felt Warlock dig his face farther into his side, making him pause. “Hey. Kiddo?” He stroked Warlock’s hair more gently this time. “You good?”

Warlock nodded. He stayed there for a long moment with his arms locked around Crowley and his nose jammed into his shirt before he took a deep breath and stepped back. “I’m really glad you didn’t leave last summer,” he said quietly, staring at his socks. He still had one hand tangled in Crowley’s jacket. “I’m glad you came back, even if you’re Crowley and Aziraphale now and not just Nanny and Brother Francis, I… I would’ve missed you. If you didn’t come back.”

The wooden spoon was abandoned on the counter as Crowley turned and crouched down. It made Warlock a little taller than him, and somehow it made it easier to pull his sunglasses off, too. “Warlock,” Crowley said, yellow serpent eyes meeting big grey ones without a flinch. “We are  _ always _ gonna come back to you. Every time, sweetheart, and nothing as small as a minor apocalypse is gonna stop us. That’s a promise, kiddo. You’re not getting rid of us any time soon.”

Warlock’s cheeks were flushed a heavily embarrassed shade of red. “...okay,” he said to his feet, then, after another moment of fidgeting, made a move back towards the stove. “Can we keep working on the chocolates?”

Crowley allowed the change of topic with a grin. “You just want cake tomorrow,” he teased, standing back up.

Warlock’s raised eyebrow was a near perfect mirror of his own. “And you just wanna impress Aziraphale. Your point?”

Crowley sputtered. “I do not have to take this sass!”

“I mean, you kinda do, if you’re not gonna leave.”

Crowley roped an arm around Warlock’s shoulders and pulled him backward, making him yelp and squirm as he smacked another kiss on the top of his head. “Never, kid.”

“Ugh,” Warlock went limp and drooped against Crowley’s arm. Laughing, the demon shoved him towards the stove again. He snapped a new measure of chocolate into the pot, and swung himself back into the pantry to figure out what the hell kind of sugar they were supposed to be using.

“Don’t you dare stop stirring that sauce,” he warned, with a fair amount of Nanny Ashtoreth sternness and an even balance of demonic teasing. “Two hundred years I’ve been trying to bring Aziraphale homemade chocolates, I will be very cross if you mess this up for me.”

Two hours later, there was a little red box on the counter, filled with their successes and tied up with a thick tartan ribbon. There was also sugar, raspberry jam, and a good deal more cocoa powder on the counter, but all that could be gotten rid of with a snap. The chocolates, though, were handmade, by the two beings in the world Aziraphale loved most. And that kind of thing wasn’t something that could be miracled up.

**Author's Note:**

> If ya wanna yell about Warlock with me, I'm also on tumblr [over here!](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/micky-r-c)


End file.
